


The Art of Being Loved

by spikeisthebigbad



Series: Spike and John's Totally Epic Adventure. [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Torchwood
Genre: Fluff without Plot, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Love, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23509810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikeisthebigbad/pseuds/spikeisthebigbad
Summary: Mindless fluff about John patching up Spike as Spike thinks about his love life. No real plot, but I would visit your dentist after reading. This is super sweet. Pure fluffiness. Part of an established world, though you can read independently.
Relationships: John Hart/Spike (BtVS)
Series: Spike and John's Totally Epic Adventure. [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/688545
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	The Art of Being Loved

Spike was used to being in love. He wasn't used to being loved, even when he fancied that his sire loved him to the best of her ability. It was a new sensation. It felt like new boots, he supposed. Beautiful, supportive, but ultimately unfamiliar and still awkward.

He shifted under John's gentle touch. "Ow," he murmured. 

"You were fine with a sword through you, but me dressing the wound hurts?" John's eyes twinkled with mirth as he glanced up. "Shut up and sit still."

Spike took the opportunity to study his mate. John's forehead held the beginning lines of aging. The corners of his eyes held the signs of a life spent in expression of his emotions. Each smile, frown, laugh, and tear left its mark. Lines that would never deepen or multiply. Their life would never leave its print on him. Not with his new immortality. Their love was, in theory, truly made eternal. The notion still terrified and thrilled him.

"You're staring," John said without looking up. "Not that I blame you, but is there a particular reason? One that doesn't end in nudity?"

"Because I get to." Spike slid his fingers through John's hair, scratching lightly against his scalp. "Because you're mine."

"I said 'doesn't end in nudity'." John pushed up to press his lips against Spike's, smiling into the kiss. "You've obviously lost too much blood. You're talking sappy."

"Maybe I'm just a sap. Or maybe I just wanted you to kiss me."

John taped the gauzy wrap down before cupping Spike's face. "Well then maybe I should give you a proper kiss."

Spike's hands settled on his sides as he pressed his thighs against his slender waist. "I'd reckon you should."

"No sex," John cautioned. "You'll bleed all over me, and you aren't the one doing laundry."

Spike snorted. "Come on, you don't mind a little blood play."

"No sex," he doubled down. "I'm not bandaging you up twice because you can't keep your pants on around me."

"You literally took my pants off." He gestured to his boxers. 

"Because I had to patch you up. That's all. No sex when you're wounded, new rule." John tidied up the medical supplies, placing them carefully back in their bag.  


"Come on, Drusilla did worse to me, and called it foreplay," Spike complained. 

"Okay first of all, I know exactly how rough you like it, and that's way too far. Second of all, I'm adding that to the list of reasons to shoot your ex if I ever meet her."

"You just want to shoot someone." Spike winced as he stood up. "Smarts," he said, his hand splayed across the bandage. 

John cradled his face between his hands. "I want to shoot anyone who hurt you. You're mine, Spike. My love. I retroactively own you, and must seek vengeance on your behalf," he teased.

"Retroactively, eh? That mean you'll head back to the nineteenth century to claim poor William, the awful poet?"

"If that's what I takes to protect you then yes. Or you could let me shoot people. It's all up to you." He brushed his lips across his mate's, and released him. "Now go to bed, for the love of god. The faster you heal, the faster I can remind you exactly how you like your foreplay."

Spike groaned. "You do a horrible job of turning me off."

"Xander Harris is waiting right outside, buck naked, ready to confess his undying love for me," John said.  


"Alright then, that worked." Spike grimaced. "Please don't ever say that again."

"Get to bed. I'll be in as soon as I finish cleaning this mess."

Spike kissed his cheek, and headed to their room. "Such a good wife," he tossed over his shoulder. 

"You know you're my wife," John yelled back. "Stop making us a lesbian couple, Tara and Willow may start looking."

Spike grinned as he slipped under the covers. John's chest pressed against his back minutes later, and he laced his fingers through the hand that laid protectively over his stomach. Spike wasn't used to being loved, but he knew John would teach him, and he had an eternity to learn.


End file.
